Tails launched himself back towards his house as fast as his namesakes could manage. His mind was racing with all sorts of possibilities, none of them good. He did his best to focus on flying before he began wobbling off-course. The last thing he needed was to crash and injure himself-that would only slow him down.
"Stupid, Tails! Stupid stupid-stupid-STUPID! Why didn't you go out looking sooner?!" his mind flared as he hovered. Sonic could be anywhere by now and there was no telling what Eggman would do once he got his grubby hands on the hedgehog. Another wave of blazingly icy fear swirled through Tails' chest as cruelly realised ideas of what was happening to his big bro forced themselves in front of his vision. They always ended in one way, with the doctor finishing the job…
The kit blinked back tears as he tried desperately to think of anything else. What else had he done that day other than panic? "Oh, right, Shadow's GameCube. Focus on that. Think about the intricacies of dismantling and rebuilding it. Isn't that nice? Look how the PCB slots perfectly into place. Wait… Shadow! I could ask him for help!... No, there's no time! The longer I wait, the more danger Sonic could be in… But what can I do…?!"
He barely noticed himself land on the porch and fumbled his key in the lock desperately. Stumbling inside his home he looked around with bleary eyes. It was exactly as he left it, meaning no hidden miracle of Sonic arriving while he was out searching. He tried to focus; he couldn't rely on something as wishy-washy as a miracle to get him any help. In a stunned silenced he trudged towards the garage, scrambling for anything that could help him. Opening the doors to his happy place, he breathed in slowly once more to clear the fog in his mind.
"Calm. Be calm. It'll be alright. That's what Sonic would say… Tails repeated, hands still shaking. It was times like this when he wished he was as collected and level-headed as his friend Knuckles. Unlike the fox, despite his temper, he always knew how to stop himself from getting into a flap when things took a bad turn. Ironically the calming experience he was after with the thought had the opposite effect as the mental equivalent of a point-blank foghorn blast happened in Tails' mind. He beelined for the large wooden workbench in the centre of the room which was currently littered with tools, circuitry, and other metal gadgets. If his arms weren't busy hastily sweeping the gizmos out of the way he'd be slapping himself.
It didn't take him too long to find what he was after amongst the organised chaos. It was a bright red walkie-talkie encased in a yellow frame. There was a gauge on the right side of the front panel that meant nothing to anybody but the gadgeteer. The purpose of the device was as a communicator-specifically, an 'emergency hotline' for Knuckles to use should the Master Emerald ever be swiped from under his nose. Of course, this also went the other way, in that it allowed Tails and Sonic (mostly the former) to keep in touch with their aloof friend. Meaning, that if there was a problem and they needed Knuckles' help, he could glide down from wherever Angel Island currently was on its orbital path and, depending on factors such as distance and breeze direction, arrive within minutes if they were lucky.
Thumbing the button labelled 'Talk!' (highlighted in obvious black text for Sonic's benefit more than anyone else's) in a clenched grip, Tails almost screamed into the microphone.
"Knuckles? It's me, Tails! I need your help urgently-Sonic's been captured by Eggman! This is not a drill, I repeat, Sonic is captured!..."
Tail's shrill, panicky voice echoed out into open air. Knuckle's communicator lay still, unaware of how lucky it was to be privy to an incredible view of the evening sky, a watercolour brush that flowed from orange to purple as the sun lay half-sunk over the horizon. Behind it was a stretch of forest in which all sorts of animals dwelled peacefully, unaware of the worry-filled world below them. The scene was broken occasionally by sweeping rivers that twisted through rusty, craggy mountains that pierced the clouds as they passed along. Below it was light grey stone steps that funnelled upwards and behind it, where two cylindrical stone platforms rose out of the ground alongside six stone pillars twice as tall as the average human man. The real eyecatcher of the altar was the colossal green gem that sat in a plinth at the very top.
The Master Emerald was a jewel of great power. If Chaos Emeralds harnessed the latent energy of the universe, the Master Emerald was the power grid they drew from. Even as it lay dormant atop its sanctuary, the excess energy flowing from within its eternal wellspring was so great that it allowed the very land it was on to float through the air on a set path.
There was a good reason the area surrounding the altar was named Angel Island: The eighth wonder of the ancient world.
For centuries it had been kept under the scrutiny of the Echidna Clan's mighty warriors for its immense potential as a tool of destruction. Ironically, despite their peacekeeping operation, wars had been fought over it and so-called 'heroes' had attempted to snatch it for their own twisted attempts at uniting the world, but all who tried failed nonetheless. Even the noble Echidnas weren't immune to the gem's allure and three thousand years ago the tribe's last great leader, Pachacamac, had attempted to wield the great energy it concealed. A personification of the Emerald's wrath, aptly named Chaos, used its insurmountable mastery of water to lay waste to the Echidna Clan and the valley they resided in. That same Chaos would one day emerge and terrorise Station Square with another great deluge, before being subdued by Sonic and the spirit of Tikal, the only other known echidna to have 'survived' to modern times.
Knuckles, appointed by blood as the last of his kind, was quite possibly the final custodian of echidna heritage the Master Emerald would ever have. The red Mobian, having been raised in isolation his entire life, was stoic and proud of his ancestry. His strength was unrivalled, able to punch through rock and sheet metal like a knife through hot butter. He was gullible to a fault and quick to anger, but also willing to listen to anyone in need despite his own internal protests at possibly being away from the Master Emerald for more than five minutes. It was his sacred relic to guard and if necessary, he would give up his own life to do so. Never straying (unless it was movie night at Tails' place), never looking away (unless he was taking a nap against the Master Emerald) and never distracted (unless his 'acquaintance' Rouge showed up), Tails could rest assured his call to action would be heard by the guardian.
Well, usually it would, anyway.
Stealthily, silently, Knuckles was scampering up the side of a tree, his namesakes providing him excellent grip. Carefully, ensuring his target was not looking his way, he leapt and glided noiselessly from branch to branch, trailing the large shadow that was trampling through the grass a few paces ahead of him.
He had heard the intruder before he saw them and had immediately left his post to investigate. From the sound of their footfalls alone they were more than powerful enough to be a threat and clearly not stupid; if they somehow made their way up to Angel Island undetected alone then they must be confident in their ability to steal it. Their own strength was already a boon for himself, Knuckles noted, as their footsteps masked his approach. And approach he did.
As the figure ambled closer towards a small lake within the jungle, Knuckles launched himself into a bush. The rustling was louder than expected and the figure stopped, as did Knuckle's heart. He tensed. Shrugging their broad shoulders, the unknown entity kept stomping along, unaware of their pursuer who was just a foot or two behind them. Just from the silhouette he could see the rippling arm muscles and beefy build of his foe. A bushy tail indicated they were clearly Mobian like himself. He had to be ready for a brutal fight. Anything less than the top of his game and the echidnas would go extinct. Two pulse-pounding minutes later, the figure stopped again, this time sitting down. As it did so, it pulled out an item-NO, a weapon-that was dangerously long, like a spear. A shine glinting against the evening light revealed that the weapon ended in a piercingly sharp metal hook. When the figure raised the weapon up the guardian knew it was time to act.
"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Knuckles screamed as he threw himself into the air, honed senses allowing him to grab the weapon from the enemy's hand. The would-be villain cried out as the echidna flipped in the air, yanking the weapon from his adversary's grip and landing on the other bank of the lake, eyes closed and grinning with smug triumph. His enemy was sure to be somewhat less of a threat without the advantage of their cruel tool. He felt it in his hand as he opened his eyes. It certainly felt nothing like a weapon he'd ever seen. What was this thing, anyway?
Looking at it fully, he blanched.
It was a fishing rod.
Slowly, he turned his head upwards to look at the very large purple cat sitting shocked on the other side of the lake, looking deeply confused and hurt as to why his friend would steal his treasured possession.
"…Big?!" Knuckles asked in disbelief.
"Aww, Knuckles, if you want to borrow my fishing rod you only need to ask…" the cat said plainly and sadly. The echidna's eye twitched.
Big the cat, as the name suggested, was large. Not just large, huge. Standing at six foot and six inches, he was taller than even most humans-a feat unheard of for Mobians. He was a true Crouching Housecat, Hidden Tiger too; Under his stripy purple fur and white chest fluff was an immense pack of muscle that was disguised under a layer of fat, cuddly appearance betraying his true strength. He wasn't the fastest thinker in the west, but that never got him down-he knew his limits and was more than comfortable with himself. All he wanted from life was to fish in peace with his best 'friend' (pet), a frog he had aptly named Froggy. The unfortunate companion was constantly being whisked away by pure happenstance either as part of Eggman's schemes or just pure bad luck, but Big was determined if nothing else. He would move heaven and earth to get Froggy back as several had found out the hard way. It was that final fact that made Knuckles instantly regret asking the cat why he was on Angel Island in the first place.
"Froggy and I were playing tag, but then he disappeared!" Big said, kind eyes looking down despairingly. "I tried finding him, but I don't think he's here…"
"But… But HOW did you get up…" Knuckles tried his best not to let his temper flair at his friend. "…Eh. Never mind." He knew the gentle giant meant no harm and wouldn't understand why his friend was getting so angry, so he clenched a fist and tried to keep his voice level.
"Yeah, no kidding. It's, uh, quite a way down from here. I'll have to ask Tails to come pick you up. If you can fit in his plane." He said, adding that last part quietly as he walked slowly around the side of the lake. Big nodded sullenly in agreement. "Okay," he began, the disappointed look on his face remaining, "I'm worried about Froggy. I hope he turns up soon." Knuckles couldn't stay angry at the pure sadness disturbing his friend's usually jolly demeanour. He silently held out his hand that was gripping the fishing rod and inwardly smiled at Big's face lighting up as an orange glove reached down to pick up his trusty item.
"C'mon," the echidna gestured, "I'll lead you to where Tails usually docks his plane. Not too far from here-hope you're up for a walk though." The pair walked away from the lake, few words spoken further between them as they headed in the direction opposite the Master Emerald's altar.
The wind carried the sounds of their footsteps, birds chirping as they arrived at their nests before nightfall, the grass rustling as high-altitude breezes raced through the elevated landscape.
What it didn't carry was the pleading voice of Tails bellowing out of the communicator from its lonesome place on the altar's steps, intended recipient getting further and further away by the second.
The golden-furred fox wanted to cry. Again.
His throat was getting hoarse from all the yelling he was doing into his own communicator. His thumb was cramping from holding down the talk button, and yet, there was no answer from the other end. Whether he was busy, asleep, or just too busy polishing that damn Emerald the kit didn't know what had Knuckles so occupied. What he did know was that the echidna wasn't picking up.
He was truly alone in his rescue mission.
The thought of hopping on a train to Station Square had crossed his mind more than once, but that would take too much time. He had to act immediately. He threw the communicator against the workbench, the shockingly loud CLANG of metal on wood causing his mind to blank. Clenching his hands, that had been shaking so much they were a little sore, into fists he marched his way out of the garage and into the one place everyone in the same situation would go: the emergency bathroom.
To an outsider it was just that-a bathroom. Located on the ground floor next to the kitchen, it was nothing out of the ordinary. An unsuspecting shower in the top left corner next to the rippled glass window, a sink with a regularly cleaned mirror mounted on the wall above it, and a toilet against the blue tile wall on the right. To Tails however, it was named the 'emergency' bathroom for a reason. Unbeknownst to anyone other than himself, by stepping into the shower, closing the curved door shut, pressing a hidden button on the side of the taps, and pulling both the hot and cold levers all the way up, the floor of the shower would slide away into the wall, allowing someone-specifically someone who could fly-to slowly hover down a shaft concealed underneath to where Tails hid his more fun toys: the aircraft hangar.
There was a trapdoor in the garage that also led downwards into the hangar, but that didn't have as much dramatic effect.
"Chassis: fully intact. Ailerons: tightened. Fuselage: no longer leaking. I'm all set." Expression moulded into one of grim determination, Tails clambered into the cockpit of his trusty monoplane after running through all the safety checks. The Cyclone, originally named The Tornado, belonged to Sonic, but it was on 'indefinite loan' to Tails since he could make far more use of it (and was actually good at piloting the thing). It had been repainted from its original red to jet blue, complete with yellow go-fast stripes. Mechanically it had been almost entirely refurbished to boot but those extra features were a surprise.
The sun had almost fully set. The night sky was all-encompassing and uncaring of the fox's plight, but those worries were stymied as the Cyclone's revamped engine roared into life within the brightly lit confines of the hangar. As a previous precaution in the event of night-time flying, Tails had affixed a searchlight to the aircraft so that he could have a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spotlight to survey the land beneath him. At long last, that feature was finally coming in handy, something he would usually be proud of if it weren't for the circumstances. Pressing a small red button on the left side of the control panel, a vertical shaft of light appeared in front of the monoplane as the two retractable metal doors slid open.
At the same time, the overhang of the cliff the hangar was stationed in began to shift. The palm trees lining either side of the overhang's top began to slide outwards and tilt slightly, leaving room for the metal panels carefully disguised under the grass to slide outwards, floodlights illuminating the paved runway that rose up from the space. It was angled upwards ever so slightly, leaving just enough room for Tails' plane to garner enough speed to take off.
The kit had a plan. He had hastily wired up a spare floodlight to the underside, allowing him to search a wide area even in the dark. He was NOT going to rest until his older bro was home safe and sound. The Cyclone was a two-seater so there would be no logistical worries even if Sonic was hurt… Tails prayed that he wasn't.
Clenching the yoke (fancy name for a steering wheel) in a vice grip, Tails allowed his vehicle to surge forward. With nary a bump nor a twitch off-course, the Cyclone accelerated at an incredible pace and slung from the edge of the runway, dipping down momentarily then climbing higher and higher into the pitch-black sky. With nothing but the stars and his intuition to guide him, Tails flew like he had never flown before.
Mystic Ruins was an entirely different place at night. During the day it was foreboding but peaceful, the only thing close to 'bustling' being the occasional tour guide and their entourage or an archaeologist trundling through the area, no doubt to inspect the ruins in question. At night, however, it was a dangerous labyrinth. Unless you lived local, daring to stray anywhere further than the train station would leave you on your own with no company except for the endless canopy of trees, not to mention whatever lived in the jungle. The most fortunate outcomes would be that you would either run across the friendly cat named Big (who was usually out chasing his pet) or stumble across Tails' house by pure chance. He'd had to deal with a couple of lost archaeologist types before when they knocked on his door at two o'clock in the morning. He'd give them something out of the fridge and point them in the way of the train station. One time there was a researcher who was mildly injured and on the verge of passing out, so Tails had graciously let him sleep on the couch. That was a mistake, as he had never seen someone drool so much in his entire life. He swore that the couch always squelched a little when someone sat on it, even to this day.
Luckily for the fox he was soaring above the sea of green at eight miles per hour, floodlight illuminating a large circle on the ground far beneath him. He had calibrated the onboard motion trackers to detect anything of roughly Sonic's size but had quickly realised that wasn't going to work when it kept flagging up rocks and plants and other assorted hedgehog-sized things hidden in the darkness. Instead, Tails calibrated the trackers to detect anything in front of his plane so he could try searching the ground as he flew. The Cyclone was flying at an angle with the left wing rotated downwards, allowing the pilot to see what the light was exposing underneath. As the light swept over the trees and between the gaps therein, The Mobian tried his best not to let the worry simmering in his brain boil over even when there was nothing even closely resembling a blue speck within the area so far.
The hum of the engine helped ease his mind just a tad. Being surrounded by technology always eased his woes, so long as it wasn't Eggman's tech. Buttons and wires and the satisfying clicking of a machine at work was like Mozart to the gadgeteer, as it would be to any object-inclined enthusiast. It was a routine, and routines were therapeutic. On the subject of Eggman's tech, however, a lightbulb went off in Tails' head. Sonic had clearly been taken by the scientist, that much he had pieced together, but to get a better feel for how his enemy would act he needed to think like his enemy:
"If I was an evil genius who had finally captured his long-time nemesis, who kept defeating me time and time again due to the fact I take too much time relishing in the moment to solidify my victory, where would I be?...
…Nearby.
I would have taken my prisoner somewhere close by for ease of transportation, and to ensure that if he ever escaped, I'd know exactly where to find him again. He wouldn't be able to get far, even at that speed. ESPECIALLY if he had been subdued and spent a lot of energy on the escape attempt."
He was grasping at straws so hard they were being ground into shards of glass, but it was all he had. As much as Eggman was a master machinist, he wasn't the best at actually being seriously villainous. Sure, he'd come close a couple of times, but he always slipped up without fail, and not putting ample space between himself and the scene of the crime would be a typical gaff. He hadn't even bothered to remove the evidence Tails had found, after all. That was strike one. With renewed hope the fox continued speeding through the darkness on a new mission: to find anything even vaguely resembling one of the good doctor's bases. Not disguising them well enough would be strike two.
"Tails? Hello? ANSWER ME ALREADY!" A very angry echidna yelled into his communicator. First of all, he had walked Big all the way to the eastern edge of Angel Island. Secondly, he had realised he didn't have his communicator on hand, had to walk all the way back to the Master Emerald's altar on the south-west side. Thirdly, he walked back again to where Big was waiting, and now on top of it all the bloody fox wasn't picking up! He was insulted. And more than half-tempted to throw the damn walkie-talkie off the bleeding island.
"I swear to Chaos, it's been ten minutes. If you don't pick up THIS instant, I'll… I'll… Bah, I dunno what I'll do but it'll involve something getting broken!" for extra emphasis he stamped his foot on the ground, swapping what ear he was holding the speaker to as if that increased his chances of a response.
"Uh, Knuckles? I don't think that's working…" Big helpfully suggested, poking his index fingers together.
The 'CHCHKKHHRLUNTCCHH' of the communicator being practically folded in Knuckles' crushing grip was the only response he got.
It had to have been close to an hour and a half of high-speed searching, and still nothing. Tails was running on empty. His stress levels were still peaking but his eyelids were threatening to lose all elasticity and droop completley over his peepers. Very strained peepers. Peepers that could desperately do with two slices of fresh cucumber plopped over them… With a grunt the fox slapped himself sharply to send a jolt through his system.
His control of the plane began to slip too. Turns became wonkier, his altitude was varying at a level rapidly approaching unsafe and his increasing failure to notice was soon going to prove fatal. He didn't know how long he had flown around in a circle for (if he had even completed the loop) but he had to factor in the return trip, accounting for his fuel level as well as his tiredness. He didn't want to stop searching. He kept telling his subconscious that he couldn't afford to stop searching when his best friend was in danger, but his brain said otherwise. If had the energy to he probably would've teared up, but he was on the verge of complete emotional drainage. Reluctantly, he pulled up on the yoke and dejectedly began the long sky road home for some dreamless sleep, heart sinking.
As he lifted the left wing's ailerons to level himself out, the searchlight glinted off a surface sharply and sent a sting of bright light through the kit's eyes. He raised a hand over his sky blue orbs and sucked in air between his teeth at the sudden stinging sensation. When he almost lost control of the plane his arm snapped back to its original position, but he was wide awake again. That certainly hadn't been the usual of leaves, rocks or water. What was that?
Sweeping back over, as the searchlight revealed more of the strange material Tails' stomach almost did a flip.
It was metal.
Harsh, angular metal, jutting out at inorganic angles. Gigantic cylindrical containers. A chain link fence surrounding the perimeter.
Tails wasted no time and kicked into a nosedive.
He needed a place to land. At this time of night it was going to be impossible… For any normal plane, that is. Lowering the ailerons as he approached the treeline Tails flicked a switch and input a specific sequence of button presses on the bashboard. Immediately after doing so, the lowering Cyclone began to shift. The landing gear wheezed and groaned, extended outwards and downwards into a pair of mechanical legs. The wings lifted both upwards and downwards at once, forming into the shape of a cross. The new shape greatly lowered the aerodynamics of the vehicle and, instead of splitting apart into pieces as expected, lowered the drag enough to come to a much slower pace, all thanks to Tails' magnificent engineering attempts. It had taken a lot of trial and error to get those bloody legs to stop snapping off from the wind resistance.
Carefully lowering the aircraft down, Tails jumped slightly at the sudden jolt from making heavy contact with the ground. Searchlight angled in front of him, as he marched onwards in the mechanical frame towards the location of what he hoped was one of Eggman's hideouts.
He never thought he would think this, but he was relieved when he crept up on the chain link fence and saw the doctor's insignia plastered over large metal containers. Ecstatic, even.
Of course there was every change he was wrong, but he was going all-in and couldn't back down now. If Sonic wasn't here, he'd simply trash the place as a warning shot. Speaking of shots, Tails grinned surprisingly evilly as he pushed a button and tested the thin tungsten barrel of the minigun on the snout of the Cyclone by reducing a large section of the fence in front of him to smithereens. Pressing the button directly underneath he also tested the missile launcher that popped out of the rear of the mech. As expected, with a piercing loud boom and a smoking, red-ringed hole in the side of a metal wall, it worked like a charm. He didn't care how loud he was being. He hoped he was waking Eggman up. If any Badniks were sent his way he'd reduce them to scrap without hesitation.
He could already see the flashing red lights cutting through the darkness and hear the shrill wailing of the alarm sirens that signalled an intruder. Between flashes of red he could see the array of Motobugs, Buzz Bombers and Egg Pawns that zoomed, zipped and trampled his way.
With a furrowed brow, mirthless grin and a crack of his knuckles, Tails got ready to rumble.
Author's note: Things are picking up! Originally this chapter was going to be double the length to get the plot rolling, but I felt like this was a good cut-off point. Next chapter should be out soon, tomorrow or Saturday night hopefully.
P.S.: Apparently Tails' plane is actually a monoplane, not a biplane. Oops. If I slip up and refer to it as a biplane anywhere else in the story rest assured I'm fully aware of the discrepancy, it's 1am as I type this and I'm too tired to bother correcting it.